<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>The Requiem for a Life by blackhairedjaemin</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24865936">The Requiem for a Life</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackhairedjaemin/pseuds/blackhairedjaemin'>blackhairedjaemin</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>NCT (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Character Death, Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst, M/M, u know ur fic has a crazy concept when u cant tag it</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 09:07:45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,579</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24865936</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackhairedjaemin/pseuds/blackhairedjaemin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em> Mark Lee was dead, yet looking at Donghyuck with enough emotion to be able to die in the first place. </em>
</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>32</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Requiem for a Life</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>okay, so--</p><p>this has been nagging me ever since i started it to be finished, im not happy with it but i want it DONE, so here.</p><p>the weird concept made sense to me in my head before i started writing but now... anyways. its inspired by the game 'death stranding' and the tv show 'american gods', if you know any of these u may be able to get it more than i do sjdjskgfd</p><p><strong>TW:</strong> main character death, copious mentions of death in general, drowning, croissants.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <b>I</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Death, Donghyuck decided, was less interesting and far less terrifying than he thought. He was almost disappointed. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> In between the before and what was now, he stood, as one stands usually, on the placid surface of an ocean. Perhaps this was some state of limbo? Purgatory - if the Catholics were to be believed. The sky wrapped around this sea with the appearance of a watercolour painting: marigold, rose, and sapphire paints. Acrylic clouds were pasted on top, and drifted languidly across the canvas. The glassy water reflected this view, turning Donghyuck into a figurine from some unknown Van Gogh. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Donghyuck’s last memories of life were six foot under, quite literally. At least he guessed, he passed out after hitting the water. The members and himself were stuffed into a bus, driving back from a music video shoot. The rains came quick and fast, ricocheting off the bus like bullets. Along the coast, the road stretched endlessly, as reflective as the waters before him now  - sheen with rain that gave it the appearance of oil. It could’ve been oil, with the way the bus swerved and swayed, woven with the winds. Just a little too heavy, a little too big. After they burst through the barrier Donghyuck had a moment of true weightlessness. He was flying away from life. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Yet he was not alone. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Several paces away another stood solitary. Donghyuck started walking. His trainers sank into the water like weight sinks into a carpet, soaking only so far. He prayed (to whom? He hasn’t met any God yet) that it wasn’t someone he knew.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p><em> “Mark?” </em>Fuck.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Mark lee was soaked in seawater, Donghyuck was not. Something was wrong. It wasn’t just Donghyuck. Some self-destructive part of his brain was okay with being dead. If it were to be him and him alone, he could watch from on high and see whether his life had any meaning to others. Mark’s life had meaning to him. Mark’s life was more valuable than his own. That’s why, yelling the other's name with the full force of his vocal cords, Donghyuck sprinted towards Mark.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Blood pooled in the water below Mark’s feet. An obscene stain on the pristine, peaceful canvas that was to be Donghyuck’s afterlife. Mark turned around-- </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> -- Donghyuck plunged into the paint. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Cobalt, azure, lapis, each shade of blue danced between his fingertips - thick like blood spilled. Donghyuck screamed yet no air bubbles left his lips. He floundered, uselessly, kicking and screaming like a peasant, begging to be released from the water’s icy grip. The current ebbed, giving him their answer. Spears of light punctured above; up, up into life, Donghyuck swam. Life presented itself as a turbulent winter ocean. Waves moved like lines on a heart monitor, reaching peaks just to descend into troughs again. Air filled Donghyuck’s lungs, now, near-drowned, he let the water push him onto The Beach. Sand the colour of ebony lay beneath him as he knelt, the tongue of the ocean having spat him out, just breathing. The sky, Donghyuck noticed, was no longer the beautiful blend of pigment it once was; instead, hues of grey had been layered thick and generously - he could not see the sun.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> He was so cold. Shivering with an intensity that seemed to make his very bones tremble. It was when Donghyuck looked down at himself did he realise why. It was not only the sky whose colour had been taken, it was him too. Donghyuck was blue; stony, cement blue. Everything, from the drenched clothes of his to his familiarly honey skin, was sapped of any colour besides the shade of death. The panic set in now. His breathing became erratic - where is Mark? The Beach was desolate. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Then, a piercing sound. Akin to a screech, no, something higher frequency. Each grain of sand seemed to vibrate with its intensity. Donghyuck clenched his eyes shut. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> A pulse. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> His body lurched forward from the chest, bringing him onto his hands and knees. Colour filled his body from the heart outwards, thrust through every artery, vein, capillary. His lungs dilated and jostled against his ribs, life erupting in each exhale. The sound swelled again. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Donghyuck’s eyes shut as he inhaled - held the breath and-- </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> A pulse. </em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>Donghyuck opened his eyes. He was in a private hospital room; warm spruce browns melted on the walls around him and the pleasant smell of lemon drifted from a diffuser by his bedside. He was no longer wearing what he died in, now clothed in clean hospital gowns he felt the crispness of the bedsheets acutely - Donghyuck had a distaste for how clinical it was. It gave an atmosphere void of emotion or empathy.</p><p> </p><p>Johnny entered the room suddenly. He was still dressed rather ordinarily for the situation they found themselves in and yet the state of his attire was distinctly unordinary. His clothes were still largely damp and torn in places, blood permeated the fabric where, underneath, his wounds had been freshly treated. A plaster had been placed underneath his left eye; both were red and puffy, as though he had been crying. Donghyuck immediately understood that something was wrong.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, you’re awake?” Johnny put on a false enthusiasm that he recognised immediately from variety show appearances. He watched as the elder stumbled dazedly into the room and sat beside his bed, linking their fingers together. Donghyuck furrowed his eyebrows.</p><p> </p><p>“Where’s Mark?” He asked. Johnny’s quasi-smile stumbled and tripped, until it fell from his face completely.</p><p> </p><p>He began with tears. “We were in a really bad accident. A road accident; the van landed in the ocean.” Johnny was forced to pause by his shattering repose.</p><p> </p><p>“Everyone else made it out okay… but Mark--” an involuntary sob forced itself through his nose as the last of his façade collapsed.</p><p> </p><p>Donghyuck knew before Johnny had even finished speaking.</p><p> </p><p>“Mark is gone, Hyuck. <em> I’m so sorry. </em>”</p><p> </p><p>In a way, he knew. He knew the moment he went in, head over heels, and drowned. Then why did it hurt so much?</p><p> </p><p>Unlike films would have convinced you, Donghyuck’s tears didn’t surge from his body like a tidal wave of emotion - instead, they developed slowly. While Johnny descended into an open fit of weeping beside him, Donghyuck simply stared, unblinking, at their conjoined hands. The tears fell involuntarily, emerging on his waterline without introduction; they were accompanied by a painful stinging, as though needles had pierced his pupil allowing water to be wrenched out from their black depths. It was as tear tracks scarred his skin that a twisted thought planted root in his consciousness for the first time. For nineteen years oxygen had filled his lungs, his heart had pumped blood relentlessly, and never once had he considered it.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> It should have been me. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Why wasn’t he left there? On The Beach. Blue and yet-- bluer now, with colour flush in his cheek and a soul tying his mortal bones together. Mark did not have that privilege; Mark’s soul was there instead - drowned and sullied. He’d beg to swap places if there were anything to beg to. The universe turned silent ears to the pleas of desperate children.</p><p> </p><p>Selfishly, Johnny’s grief became unwelcome beside his own.</p><p> </p><p>“Tell me it’s a joke.” The tremor lost all authority in his command. Johnny shook his head - broken.</p><p> </p><p>He was informed that his condition was quite serious, he was resuscitated on the scene and was lucky to be alive. Lucky was a strange way of describing it. Was it lucky to be abandoned in a world without Mark? Was it lucky to go back to the dorms and see an empty room? Lucky to hear that he died, saving Donghyuck? Lucky to know that he had to live? Had to live. </p><p> </p><p>How unorthodox. Donghyuck was an idol stuffed with epithets of stardom, his dreams touched the skies. Yet, he was reduced to ashes in the dirt against this loss. In the quiet hours, Donghyuck was reduced to a boy. A boy not so big for bones nor-- broken and beaten into the ground. A boy in love; in love with someone who no longer existed. Like maybe-- when Mark would sit at the end of his bed, his phone clutched, rhymes breathed between pink lips, while Donghyuck pointedly tried not to stare. Or perhaps-- years ago, on plastic floorboards disguised as wood that squeaked under teenage sneakers as they stared each other down; the fire of youth boiling their blood and a heartbeat that reached Donghyuck’s ears. Even when-- their eyes met, a split in time, while screams filled their ears and up to their heads, sweat-sweet skin, honeyed hair, pitch pupils open gateways to young souls. Even then-- Donghyuck knew that he would do anything for him. It was in the quiet hours Donghyuck nursed a broken heart.</p><p> </p><p>It was in the quiet hours that Donghyuck dreamed:</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <em> The Beach stretched before him, downturned, like the ominous silken feathers of a crow. Grey sand, chidden by colour, soaked in the monochrome hues of the ocean. Donghyuck remembers this place. Where colour was absent from his body only to return as he was brought back into life. Even here, his thoughts were consumed by Mark; was he drowned by the waters here? Piercing sounds of resuscitation failing to drag him onto shore? Donghyuck must truly be cursed - what’s the point of these visions? They had appeared to him upon Mark’s death as if to taunt. ‘Give him a taste of death', they said, malicious intent heavy. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Something in the distance drew his attention. It stood aloft, alive-looking, many paces away from him. The realisation struck thunder through his blood. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Mark?” Mark turned, eyes open, face blank, stony stare, blue skin. He was there. Donghyuck put one foot forward, the threatening presence of tears already apparent in his expression. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Until something grabbed his ankle. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> He felt the fingernails dig into his skin but there was nothing there, felt himself be pulled by his right leg towards the ocean, violently. Screams of Mark’s name ripped out of his throat as he hit the floor, fingers grasping for purchase in the sand. It dragged him relentlessly, ghostly hands multiplying along his leg, the other now also in the grasps of the apparition. His fingers dug scars into the blackened sand, begging to let him go to Mark. Amid the chaos, Donghyuck thought he almost saw Mark running towards him before he was plunged into the sea. </em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>He awoke with a gasp, thunder roaring outside his window with celestial timing. Sweat permeated his clothes uncomfortably and, for a moment, gave the illusion that Donghyuck had been drowned. He heaved in air through his lungs, like a starved man to food, and calmed the stuttering fire of his heartbeat. He was alive still.</p><p> </p><p>Johnny wasn’t in his bed. Donghyuck felt too shaken to sleep again so, instead, made the resolve to at least keep Johnny company. Stepping outside their room revealed that his roommate was sat at their dining room table, scrolling absently through his phone. He glanced up as Donghyuck joined him.</p><p> </p><p>“Can’t sleep?”</p><p> </p><p>“No - bad dreams.” Johnny hummed at Donghyuck’s reply. Perhaps he shared the bad dreams that Donghyuck had.</p><p> </p><p>Then again… no. Something in that dream clouded his thoughts with a mystical haze. It lingered, in the same way sour candy does, on his tongue irritably. Donghyuck could only liken it to pressure; the air feeling too thick, as if squeezed under floods of seawater. It forboded, on his body, pressed tight, something was coming.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Knock, Knock, Knock. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Something rapped lightly on their front door. They both whipped their heads round, surprise incriminated on their faces. It was two in the morning.</p><p> </p><p>Johnny started first, being older he grasped at that simple responsibility. Donghyuck followed behind. Rain could be heard from outside; splashing wildly against their apartment block, water droplets gathering with the force of an army, just to shake the foundations and attack the walls. The sound of it seemed to amass, climbing louder and spilling over the white noise of the room. The boys’ steps were silent against that cacophony - Johnny opened the door.</p><p> </p><p>Mark stood there and it rained.</p><p> </p><p>His eyes held some ambiguous sadness, a plea, before they closed and he fell forward. Johnny caught him with impressive speed, small shocked noises dribbling out his mouth as Mark’s body slumped against his. Donghyuck just stared.</p><p> </p><p>Mark was wearing what he wore that day, clothes drenched throughout. Which was impossible, because his body should’ve been naked on a morgue table, waiting for the funeral. Yet, here he was, looking as alive as the day they all crawled into that coach. Donghyuck’s curse was lifted, The Beach had washed Mark onto his shore - rejected him the same way they had Donghyuck. A prayer, a requiem, barely a breath, whispered from Donghyuck’s parted lips as he thanked the powers that be for bringing his Mark back to him. His gaze rove over that youthful face like they did years ago, more youthful then, but no less beautiful. Innocent eyes closed peacefully, as though he were asleep.</p><p> </p><p>“Hyuck, he’s not breathing.” Donghyuck broke out of his trance immediately.</p><p> </p><p>“No, no, no, no, no, no. He was fine, he was standing <em> right there. </em>” Donghyuck was at his side, now, pushing his palm against Mark's heart, feeling for something, anything.</p><p> </p><p>Nothing.</p><p> </p><p>He wouldn’t let this happen again. Not when he was so close, a bird’s feather in his grasp, ready to fly if the grip was loose enough. Johnny had put his body to the floor, crawled against the wall and put his head in his hands - defeated - but Donghyuck was desperate. He lay his hand over the other and started pumping, right above where Mark’s heart should’ve been beating. His actions were forceful, unaware to the porcelain vessel beneath him. He sucked that prayer right back in between his gritted teeth, this was a taunt, a farce, <em> a lie </em>--</p><p> </p><p>“Ow! Haechan, what--” Mark gripped his wrists where they were positioned over his chest. They met eyes, a pained expression in the elders, Johnny simply sat and stared. Something wasn’t right, underneath Donghyuck’s fingers he felt nothing, there was no jolt back into life, no transition between beach and shore. Donghyuck furrowed his eyebrows, moving with a startling speed he lay his head against Mark’s chest. Nothing.</p><p> </p><p>“Donghyuck, what are you--” His fingers flew to his neck now, searching, trailing. Donghyuck’s body in Mark’s lap, hunched over where they were on the floor. Mark just looked at him with incredulity. There was no pulse, no breath fanned across Donghyuck’s cheek, no trace of life, no heave of air, in, out, from his lungs. There was nothing. Donghyuck gazed into Mark’s eyes. Nothing.</p><p> </p><p>Mark Lee was dead, yet looking at Donghyuck with enough emotion to be able to die in the first place.</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>II</b>
</p><p> </p><p>Mark later explained what he remembered. The commotion in the hallway had stirred the other members of the lower one-two-seven dorm. Taeyong and Doyoung sat uniform, with a myriad of expressions phasing across their features. It had taken an hour or so to garner that, yes, Mark by all known laws of reality should be dead; a realisation that seemed to be just as much a shock to Mark himself. Minutes were spent pacing, discussing, fretting over what should be done in such a situation. For a while, Mark was adamant on calling an ambulance but Johnny, now the voice of reason, reminded him quickly that everyone thought he was dead.</p><p> </p><p>Donghyuck simply stared. His eyes held the appearance of a schoolchild’s, trying to solve some complex math problem or riddle. What had washed him ashore? A zealous part of himself told him that he was the wave to push Mark into this… half-life. Why like this, then? Mark Lee was somehow alive and yet dead all the same. It seemed obvious now, his skin was far too pale and his hair far too brittle to be the Mark that Donghyuck was so familiar with.</p><p> </p><p>“I think-- I think I just need to rest. I’m tired - can we figure this out in the morning?” Mark stuttered out, clearly fatigued.</p><p> </p><p>“Do you even need to sleep?” Doyoung asked.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, I’m tired so... I guess so.” That was that. Mark took their manager's bed, who was currently away, as not to disturb the members of his own dorm who had yet to know about his ‘condition’. Could you even call it that?</p><p> </p><p>Donghyuck simply went through the motions, consumed with questions like that - swallowed by thought. He brushed his teeth like he had every night, a wall the only barrier between him and Mark. Donghyuck stared at his reflection: the flush in his cheeks, the ocean blue veins meandering along his neck, the bright coffee colour to his skin, all that made him alive. Mark’s heart did not beat - he had watched it. Watched the movement of his body, all the ways it should have been familiar to him. Mark’s eyes were sunken and a flush did not reach the skin in his cheeks, which were grey. Donghyuck was not stupid. Mark’s days were numbered; his body would decompose until it was food for the earth.</p><p> </p><p>The clock ticks ever onward. <em> Tick-tock, tick-tock. </em></p><p> </p><p>He spat out the toothpaste in his mouth, it had begun to taste bitter. Donghyuck was not stupid; he knew there was no time to waste.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <em> Sand clouds dispersed at his feet, suspended as though they were underwater - yet Donghyuck breathed. His hair swirled around his face, disturbed by each movement of his head. He could feel the pressure of the water, thick against his skin, dredged like layers of mire. In front of him lay the bus. It was resting on its head, the front submerged under the sand leaving the tail to stick out slightly. Some windows had been smashed, as though punched out from the inside. Through the azure haze Donghyuck could make out someone within. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> He walked laboriously. His clothes pulsing against his body with each step, using his arms to propel himself forward. Donghyuck knew who would be waiting for him in that coach, he knew the same way his heart knew how to beat. It didn’t make it any less painful, even in sleep Donghyuck is reminded of the dreaded fate that separates him and who he yearns for. Even now, the thread that binds them together tugs, just a little harder. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> He jumps, floats in the water and pushes through shards of glass. The coach seems to moan in response to the disturbance, the metal taut against the weight of the sea. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Mark was before him, eyes closed, chained to his seat by a seatbelt, suspended upside down. Donghyuck felt like crying, tears paling against the weeping ocean that surrounds them. Frantically, Donghyuck pulls at the seatbelt. His fingers claw for purchase, grabbing at Mark's shoulders, yanking his limp body forwards. Wretched sobs are ripped from his throat as he tries feebly to free Mark from this fate. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Mark’s eyes snap open and his hand flies to Donghyuck’s throat. Vice grip choking him. Words that shook the very water that surrounded them: </em>
</p><p> </p><p><em> “ </em> <b>Leave.</b> <em> ” </em></p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>Donghyuck shook Mark’s sleeping body lightly.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, hey. C’mon wake up. We gotta go.”</p><p> </p><p>“Mm, what? Go where? Haechan--”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll explain later, get dressed.” Mark obeyed, shucking on whatever was closest while Donghyuck grabbed nearby essentials from around Doyoung’s room, spare socks, a water bottle, the like, and stuffing them into a backpack that was almost full already. Mark’s face had the same expression of incredulity, only a few hours ago.</p><p> </p><p>“Here.” He shoved it into Mark’s grasp, “You’ll need a cap and a mask too - to cover your face.” Donghyuck’s expression was abstruse, somewhat guarded yet undeniably determined. </p><p> </p><p>“Donghyuck, what’s going on?” Mark’s expression, however, was an oxymoron of the other’s, read like a book, confusion morphed into disbelief. They seemed to face off, Mark staring into Donghyuck’s eyes as if trying to gleam some explanation. Donghyuck stared right back, perhaps trying to give him that explanation without saying a word. He settled on this:</p><p> </p><p>“Do you trust me?” </p><p> </p><p>“Donghyuck--”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Do you trust me? </em>” A pause.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes.”</p><p> </p><p>They left the apartment block at five in the morning. The sky was a ghost of the one beyond The Beach, a blend of watercolour paints; navy blue spilled over the canvas, interrupted by strokes of apricot, plum, and lilac. Donghyuck did his best to ensure their identities were concealed, crowding Mark’s face with a cap, mask, and his blocky glasses. He didn’t want to have to deal with the discovery that Mark was a dead man walking, literally. They took public transport - Donghyuck had watched enough crime dramas to know to pay in cash - a bus to the train station, and a bullet train to the ferry station. Mark knew better than to press Donghyuck for answers, sleep eventually pulled him under. Donghyuck lay his head against the train’s window, a sigh from escaping his lips, watching the landscape devolve into flashes of colour and light. He was in over his head.</p><p> </p><p>The journey took around two hours and by seven-thirty the pair were on the first ferry out to Jeju Island. </p><p> </p><p>It was off-season, so they were among the skeletal numbers of passengers - less people to recognise them. Mark was more awake now, and had some constipated expression on his face, patience wearing thin with how far Donghyuck was taking this. The ferry was well into the ocean now, far enough now.</p><p> </p><p>Donghyuck led Mark to the top deck. The sky was spitting rain onto the boat, as if indecisive on whether to open the heavens or shut them completely. The wind was more resolute, buffeting them with an intense force. Donghyuck asked Mark for his phone; he complied, albeit reservedly. The younger checked the screen, it was still too early for the other members to be awake, so no notifications blocked the screen… but there would be.</p><p> </p><p>Donghyuck gathered all his strength into his arm and launched the phone into the ocean, followed shortly by his own.</p><p> </p><p>“Okay, what the fuck Donghyuck! Are you insane?” Mark glared at him, wide-eyed, Donghyuck simply matched that with his own nonchalance.</p><p> </p><p>“Mark, you’re dead. You shouldn’t have a phone anyway, and if the other members decide to report either you or me missing they might get into our phones so I’m just making sure--”</p><p> </p><p>“Donghyuck do you realise how crazy you sound right now?”</p><p> </p><p>“This whole thing is crazy! Until a few hours ago you were laying on a morgue table waiting to be put six-foot under!” Mark seemed to blanche slightly at this, his already pale skin seeming even more lifeless than before.</p><p>“I’m trying-- I’m trying to find a solution to all this and I-- <em> we </em> can’t do that in Seoul. There are too many people and too many things that could go wrong. I won’t lose you again, <em> I won’t </em> . so I’m gunna find some way to bring you back to life - fully, not-- not <em> this </em>.” He gestured to Mark, tears threatening to spill.</p><p> </p><p>Donghyuck had been fighting a sickening feeling since boarding the ferry. He saw the waters and images invaded his thoughts like the opening of floodgates; images of drowning, trapped in a glass box or, sometimes, images of a beach, blackened sand and dead bodies ashore. He looked to Mark, imploringly, and he saw that corpse in the sand. Yet, Mark’s eyes were nothing alike it, his expression was living enough, living enough to remind Donghyuck of better times. Times when he held a camera high above his head, grabbed onto Mark and kissed his cheek. He did it to everyone else, of course, it was for the fans after all, but maybe Mark’s kiss belonged to him too.</p><p> </p><p>Mark was not crying, maybe he wasn’t able to anymore, but he looked pained enough to, and wiped his hands across his cheeks anyways. It was probably just the rain.</p><p> </p><p>“I know how crazy this is. <em> I know </em>, and I want to come back too. I just-- for me, a couple of hours ago, I was in a coach with my best friends in the entire world only to wake up dead. I want everything to go back to normal just like you. So… I’m sorry. I’m just not as adjusted to all this yet.” He paused, and sniffled wetly.</p><p>“I trust you though, crazy situations need crazy solutions, right?” Mark laughed, not quite fully but it wasn’t half-hearted, either. Donghyuck returned the gesture, giving a sad smile that reached to his teary eyes. “C’mere, dude.”</p><p> </p><p>Mark wrapped his best friend in a crushing hug, he didn’t need body heat to convey its warmth. Donghyuck grasped onto his friend with all the force he could muster. He hoped Mark would understand what he wanted to say with this gesture, how much it meant to be able to even be in his arms. ‘I love you so much. So much I feel like my soul sings for you, and only you. I love you so much that I don’t quite know how to explain it, when I realised, when I fell. I love you so much that the past weeks without you were so painful, nothing felt the same and everything was empty. I wanted to swap places, I wanted it to be me because you didn’t deserve it. Mark, I’m in love with you.’</p><p> </p><p>They separated. Mark just smiled at him. </p><p> </p><p>Then, his expression changed to something put on. He sucked in air between his teeth in some mock state of thought, a gesture that would’ve been saved for the cameras.</p><p> </p><p>“But… Haechan, doesn’t this technically count as a kidnapping?” Donghyuck caught on quickly and responded with exaggerated surprise.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh! I guess it does! I should probably tell you about the gun I’ve been carrying then.” Donghyuck fists his hand into his pocket only to pull it out a second later with his fingers shaped in a pistol. He points it at Mark and closes one eye, making a dramatic ‘pew!” sound. Mark broke out into his familiar fit of laughter, his eyes crinkling with mirth and covering his mouth - as if unjustly embarrassed by his smile.</p><p> </p><p>“Come on, dude! don’t make jokes like that, you already look mad throwing our phones off the ship.” Donghyuck’s smile stays firmly planted on his face.</p><p> </p><p>“I guess you’re right, let’s head back inside.” He shivers efficaciously and lets out a loud shout of, ‘I’m cold!’ This earns him Mark’s arms around his shoulders and the pleasant feeling of having the love of his life, his best friend, back with him.</p><p> </p><p>Despite the comforting presence of Mark’s fingers between his own he still couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling of being so close to the ocean. Meer feet below him were the endless depths of the Jeju Strait, the crushing pressure of seawater, the floods of death. They were only an hour away from their destination, now, and were a lot cosier in the warmth below deck, with Mark quiet against his side Donghyuck only had his thoughts to occupy him. He tried not to deem himself pathetic, a few weeks ago he would have scoffed at the notion of being afraid of the ocean; ‘<em> it’s just water, what’s there to be scared of? </em>’ A lot, or maybe it’s just the drowning.</p><p> </p><p>In truth, Donghyuck had no real plan. Thinking on his feet was an acquired talent, working through outfit malfunctions and choreography mis-haps, but currently it felt more like Donghyuck was running head over heels towards some unknown depth, maybe of no return. Either he figures out some way to return Mark to the world of the living - for good - or they get caught and Mark is taken away from him forever. He had already experienced a world where the latter was true, he wasn’t sure he could survive it a second time. What he was working with, instead, was: a large wad of cash, backpacks with enough in them for not much more than a sleepover, a lot of determination, and some bull-headed, foolish love for the person next to him who just sneezed loudly in the silence. Donghyuck smiled, and was pulled away from his musings momentarily. Mark was tied to the earth the way deciduous leaves are tied to the soil, they are doomed to return to it, but this grounded Donghyuck somehow, reminded him what was at stake and refocused him. All Donghyuck had was faith, but maybe that was enough. </p><p> </p><p>The four hour journey seemed to go by quicker than Donghyuck had anticipated. The weather had cleared by the time they landed and the sky was no longer sullied by clouds; he still noticed the bite in the wind but couldn’t bring himself to be bothered by it. Without their phones there was no way to search up places to stay, thankfully, though, the information desk was still open in the harbour. The lady pointed them towards the cheapest hotel in the area, a short walk away, and by the time it came for breakfast they were firmly settled into a room.</p><p> </p><p>“Do you even need to eat anymore?”</p><p> </p><p>“Good point. I don’t feel hungry?”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh god, please don’t tell me you’re going to try and eat my brains.” That earned Donghyuck a pillow to the face and an order to get breakfast anyway.</p><p> </p><p>He wandered around the neighbourhood aimlessly hoping to come across a restaurant or cafe. Buildings rose from the ground like waves as he walked, a stuttering scape of suburbia rolling around him. It felt familiar, Donghyuck may not have been to this part of the island often while he lived here but the familiarity could be felt in the very air itself - this was unmistakably the place from his childhood. Yet another building arose from concrete that did not belong in the comforting space of his suburban boyhood. It’s architecture was more European than Eastern, all stone pillars and white brick - something akin to a museum. The sign read in clear English lettering ‘<em> Jeju Island Public Library </em>’.</p><p> </p><p>Donghyuck found himself leafing through the bookshelves like they were pages of a book themselves. Science Fiction, South Korean Culture, Suspense and Thriller… Supernatural. He trailed a finger gently across the spines of the books, feeling the bump of each one under the pad of his index fingertip. To no surprise they were mostly fiction books, tales of unicorns, wizards, and ghosts; the whole Harry Potter collection taking up noticeable space on the shelf. However, right at the end, almost tucked away from sight, lay some books that piqued Donghyuck’s interest. They were non-fiction explorations into death and ‘The Beach’ by some french name that Donghyuck couldn’t pronounce. There were several volumes of them, each one had a thin layer of dust on top and looked like they hadn’t been taken off the shelf once. Donghyuck, once again, thanked whatever powers that be for bringing him this stroke of luck. He flipped the first volume open and his joy faltered ever so slightly. They were all written in English. Good thing he brought one half-alive American with him.</p><p> </p><p>Quickly checking the books out and abashedly asking the librarian where he could find a cafe Donghyuck returned to their hotel room, Croissants in one hand and the books in the other. To his astonishment Mark didn’t greet him with a snarky comment about how long he took or a question about the thick tomes he was carrying; instead, he just gestured him over silently to where he was perched, watching the television. Donghyuck approached cautiously. He froze once he saw what was on the screen.</p><p> </p><p>“The body of recently deceased SM Entertainment Idol - Mark Lee - was reported missing this morning by the coroner assigned to the investigation of his death. Also, the members of NCT have reported another bandmate, Haechan, also known as Lee Donghyuck, missing in the early hours of this morning. Both of the idols had been apart of the recent road-traffic accident--”</p><p> </p><p>Donghyuck stopped listening then. Everything was happening too fast. The members must have only woke up a few hours ago to two empty beds, half of them knowing the truth about Mark while the other half probably thinking his body had been stolen. Stolen by him, maybe; they weren’t entirely wrong. </p><p> </p><p>Before Donghyuck could be consumed by that train of thought, hurtling off the tracks, Mark started retching next to him. He stumbled off the bed and dashed towards the bathroom, half-eaten croissant falling to the floor, hand covering his mouth. Donghyuck followed behind dazedly, met with the sight of Mark dry heaving into the toilet, his glasses forgotten on the floor. He knelt beside Mark and rubbed his back in an intent to soothe, running his hands along his neck, pulling his fringe out off of his face. Bile dripped from his pebble-coloured lips and Donghyuck couldn’t help the thought that it was probably all that was left in him. Mark finally straightened himself out and slumped against the wall, eyes screwed shut, a pained groan leaving him. Donghyuck was still crouched to his side, fingers layed tepidly on his shoulder, before he let them fall to his side. Mark re-opened his eyes finally and offered up what Donghyuck assumed was supposed to be a reassuring smile.</p><p> </p><p>“At least that answers the question about whether or not I have to eat, huh?”</p><p> </p><p>Donghyuck would have tried to return the gesture, fake a laugh to pretend he wasn’t worried out of his mind, but something in Mark’s eyes drew his attention. Without his glasses distorting them Donghyuck got a better look at his pupils; dilated enough to crowd out Mark’s beautiful brown irises and an iridescent, grey-white sheen reflecting what should have been pitch black. Lifeless and grey. Everything was happening too fast.</p><p> </p><p>“What? Something on my face?” It was a pale excuse for a joke and did nothing to disguise the obvious fear in his voice.</p><p> </p><p>“Mark can you see?”</p><p> </p><p>“What do you mean? I mean, everything’s a little blurry without my glasses but I can make you out just fine. Why? Donghyuck what’s happening?” Donghyuck pried the Glasses from the tile floor and handed them to Mark, his face contorted into a worrying concoction of concern and confusion. Donghyuck motioned Mark towards the mirror. His glasses remained between his fingertips, dangling as though held by a thread, the thread that tied Mark to life and was slowly pulling taut. He looked into his eyes and saw the thread snap.</p><p> </p><p>One discovery of Mark’s deterioration led to the next. He was now hunkered against their bedside, book open in his lap, studiously reading. Donghyuck watched and examined the way the fingers of death had their skeletal hands around his throat. Firstly, he wasn’t absent to the way hair came out between his fingers earlier, carding through it unintentionally to hold his fringe back. The food was another obvious tell, the oppressing fatigue, skin pale enough to look mythical, like a vampire or ghost. Mark was thinner too, his body should have been waterlogged but was dehydrated instead; his shirt hung from his frame loosely, not the way it used to, when it was filled out by dancer’s muscles. Donghyuck gulped. It hadn’t even been twenty-four hours.</p><p> </p><p>“Anything useful yet?”</p><p> </p><p>“Haechan, it’s been ten minutes. Also this text is really hard, I haven’t read books this complicated since… I didn’t even read shit like this in school.” Mark lamented, teasing his hand through the brittle strands of his hair in frustration.</p><p> </p><p>Donghyuck huffed and picked up the second volume of the books. Mark just looked on bemused as Donghyuck glared at the pages, as if intimidating them would make them any easier to grasp. He had to ask Mark to translate words or phrases he didn’t understand but eventually he got into a position where he could read the book to some degree. They quickly fell into a pace, each pulling out the cheap hotel pad and pen from their bedside drawers and making notes of anything pertinent. Discussion built up around them as they worked, each divulging their experiences of the event and translations of the pages. Donghyuck discovered that Mark shared similar dreams to him, of seeing himself on a beach, and the books detailed these very phenomena that they were living through. It reminded Donghyuck of the sparse study sessions he’d partake in with the Dream members, albeit with more junk food and less study, but in a reality where death surrounded him he was able to be reminded of happier times momentarily. After some time, pages lay scrambled around them, covered in a coalescence of chicken-scratch English and Korean, more akin to inscrutable runes than the work of (somewhat) educated adults. </p><p> </p><p>The boys lay on their backs, starfished, on the floor of that run-down hotel. Minds brimming with stories of mingled life and death, and a beach of blackened sand. They stared into the tarnished ceiling as though the stains on its surface were purposeful brush strokes, a rendition of Van Gogh’s Starry Night.</p><p> </p><p>Mark outstretched his arm and linked fingers with Donghyuck, it was a mess of digits, not formal nor comfortable, but it made Donghyuck’s veins thrum nonetheless.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t think there’s another way.” He inhaled.</p><p> </p><p>“I wish there was.” Mark exhaled.</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>III</b>
</p><p> </p><p>It was a fucking stupid idea. Yet, here they stood, overlooking the basin of that foul bathtub, looking somewhere close to terrified. To echo Mark’s very own words: ‘crazy situations need crazy solutions’.</p><p> </p><p>“This is fucking stupid.” Mark said.</p><p> </p><p>Donghyuck knew this, of course. Donghyuck was also desperate. The books offered no alternative solution, it was resounding in consensus that <em> this </em> had to be done.</p><p> </p><p>Donghyuck had to bring himself back to death.</p><p> </p><p>He was to use the same method he died with the first time - drowning - bring himself as close to dying as possible and then drag himself back, Mark’s soul in tow. The very same soul that had been separated from him, somehow, leaving his body tied to it on the other side. His body was very much dead but it was still tied to its other half, convincing itself it was alive.</p><p> </p><p>That was all just logistics, however. The act itself was what had Donghyuck’s palms sweating, clammy and uncomfortable, his heart thrashing, shaking his bones. He was selfish like this, stood on tiles that seemed to crack with the weight of what was to be done, a child begging to swap places, begging to repent; when the opportunity is given to him, he caves. A child caught between two worlds and never deciding which one he prefers.</p><p> </p><p>He was more selfish yet, being that child when one stood next to him with the same fate thrust upon his shoulders. Mark wasn’t offered choice.</p><p> </p><p>This is what sets him on again. The look in Mark’s eyes, or lack thereof, for those eyes were a pale shadow of the ones seen weeks before. It was always for him, everything, for him. Donghyuck’s love began to feel twisted with something else.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s the only idea we have, maybe the only solution.” Mark didn’t reply.</p><p> </p><p>The rush of tap water presented itself as a bad omen, as was the custom these days. Water seemed to follow Donghyuck everywhere he went, such an important asset to life now corrupted by loss and pain. He changed into something more appropriate, if there was any appropriate in this situation, he didn’t bring swim shorts so joggers and a shirt would have to suffice. It felt wholly unceremonial and pathetic, looking at himself in the mirror; his frame had become much smaller, his ribs indented his skin, grief did not wear him well. That sour taste, the one which occurred after his dream, returned again; this time heavier, with more intent. His mouth felt full with it, dry as a desert as he choked on its sand. What was he missing?</p><p> </p><p>“It’s ready.” <em> Ready as I’ll ever be. </em></p><p> </p><p>Lukewarm water soaked through his clothes and Donghyuck tried not to shiver.</p><p>“Whatever happens, don’t let me back up. I need as much time as possible to find what I’m looking for.”</p><p> </p><p>“You mean my soul.”</p><p> </p><p>“Sure, Mark.” Something wasn’t being said. The time wasn’t right for wasted words.</p><p> </p><p>The waters swallowed him whole.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <em> Monochrome heavens had become familiar to Donghyuck, the tempestuous clouds blanketing the skies, denying entry into the land of the dead. Uncanny, unfathomable sands seemed to hum against its trespasser, something archaic and ominous hung in the air; the very place seemed to know of his coming. Prophetic idioms blurred the edges of Donghyuck’s mind as he stood, understanding that this was meant to be, on The Beach. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> The sands of time were altogether different than the ones below Donghyuck’s feet, they moved swiftly and without remorse. Donghyuck was no martyr and the sands reminded him of that. Time was short. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Mark walked atop the waters, offshore, some distance from Donghyuck (distance forever separated them here) - more a martyr in grace than Donghyuck could ever suppose to be. He was wearing what his body wore, the soul a taunting reflection of who had left him, wayside. Donghyuck shook the mist from his mind, lethargy seemed to drag him down here, beckon him to slow, it was very unlike his dreams. He started into a run, it was laboured, like gravity was pulling him into the voided sands; sands that sliced into his bare feet, somehow hot and cold at the same time. Nothing made sense and everything was blurred. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Donghyuck hit the shoreline, dense waters wrapping around his ankles, winding foam pulling him towards the waters where Mark walked away from him. He waded, panting with exertion (why was everything so laborious?). Donghyuck knew not to scream his name, he never seemed to hear him - he wasn’t sure he had the energy to anyway. The cold reached his chest now, the precipice just underneath his arms, Mark was mere meters away from him now. He was going to do it. Donghyuck reached out his arms, ready to grab Mark’s ankles, bring him back with him. A smile graced his lips. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> The smile was swallowed by the waters. Donghyuck fell. </em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>Air burned in his lungs as he inhaled with a force akin to violent winds.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit. </em> You’re okay, oh my god.” Mark’s stream of consciousness dribbled from his lips as he wrapped Donghyuck in his embrace. He was soaked, but it didn’t matter. Donghyuck grabbed onto him by instinct, his fingers clawing for purchase against his back as he recovered. They lay there, a knot of limbs, in a puddle, just for a while. Then Donghyuck’s instincts subsided.</p><p> </p><p>“Why did you pull me up?” Mark seemed to go deathly still beneath him, how ironic. Donghyuck lifted his head up and met his eyes, fear stared back at him.</p><p> </p><p>“You stopped breathing Hyuck, I thought you were dead.”</p><p> </p><p>“Isn’t that the whole fucking point?” Mark sighed then, they both sat up, neither of them wanted what was coming yet prepared themselves for it anyway.</p><p> </p><p>“Are you serious Donghyuck? Am I just supposed to let you die?”</p><p> </p><p>“How the fuck else am I supposed to bring you back then, huh Mark? The instructions were crystal clear.”</p><p> </p><p>“But they aren’t safe! We’re running on <em> luck </em> here Donghyuck. If you fail in bringing my soul back, or whatever, then where will we be, huh? With two dead kids instead of one-- whatever I am. This is so--” Donghyuck’s laugh interrupted him.</p><p> </p><p>“Do you suggest we just leave it then? That this was all for nothing. Mark you are <em> rotting </em> away right in front of me! How am I supposed to sit here--”</p><p> </p><p>“Better than killing yourself!” The sentence seemed to suck all the noise out of the room. “It’s better than you killing yourself.” Mark whispered, the words rang loud.</p><p> </p><p>Love doesn’t make you take a life, not love alone anyways. Donghyuck untangled his emotions and found what was lurking underneath. Guilt. It had planted itself in his heart from the very moment he heard of Mark’s death, and it grew, like cancer, consumed everything that mattered to him. Even his love. It led him here, on the verge of death, for a cause that was almost lost. The cause sat in front of him. Mark couldn’t cry, not anymore, but he didn’t need explosive shows of emotion to convey his feeling. He seemed to know, before Donghyuck did, and that was what led him here, almost dead, trying to convince a lost cause to live.</p><p> </p><p>Donghyuck didn’t want to die, not in truth. He wanted Mark to live. He wanted Mark to live because his death had fallen on his shoulders. It was a weight he could not bear. It was a weight only amplified by his love, and it sat <em> heavy. </em> It was a weight that he could not shake, it had lay upon him for the past days, compressing his thoughts into one notion. ‘ <em> It should’ve been me. </em>’</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry.” The phrase came out in short gasps, full of tears. Donghyuck was just a boy, and he could not carry that weight.</p><p> </p><p>Mark offered to take it from him. He embraced him, everything damp and uncomfortable, he let him cry. It was now you would understand the differences between them. Mark was no less a boy than Donghyuck, but age separated them and made the knots of their emotions easier to untangle. Mark knew what had happened, he had made his decisions in that coach and he took them to his grave. Mark had made the decision to save Donghyuck before himself and he would not let it fail him now.</p><p> </p><p>They ordered take away from somewhere local. Donghyuck was blanketed with exhaustion and wasn’t enthusiastic about eating, but Mark was insistent; while he didn’t need to eat himself all the younger had eaten that day were a few croissants. He watched him do so, stuffing noodles into his mouth despite the earlier objection, and thought that he was so lucky to have known Donghyuck. Maybe Mark’s days were numbered, maybe the soil beckoned him with it’s fingers made of rock and stone, but at least he got experience some of those days beside Donghyuck. Beautiful boy, broken boy. Mark wished to repair the shattered parts of his mind; they had been flung into this fate by no fault of their own, and it was cruel.</p><p> </p><p>Mark slept, on their beds which they pulled together, with his arm around Donghyuck’s middle. Maybe the soil beckoned him, but he has never felt more at home than now - Donghyuck’s warmth filling in all the cold spaces that death had created.</p><p> </p><p>Donghyuck did not sleep.</p><p> </p><p>Donghyuck, instead, gently pried the older’s arms from around him with extreme sorrow, for they were warm and safe, and pulled his trainers on. Acknowledging his guilt was a step towards recovering but actually doing so was a long walk. He was a slave to it. It didn’t cloud his brain so much as it filled it, filled it with seawater, that weight now the thick pressure of being drowned. Donghyuck was resolutely in pain, he knew what was to be done but just like the bathtub, it didn’t make it any easier. He looked back at Mark, hand on the doorframe of their room, consumed his appearance like a starved man; the content expression, his relaxed posture, the way his hair fell messy on his forehead. Mark’s peaceful sleep looked a lot like death. Fuck. <em> Fuck </em>. Donghyuck tried really hard not to cry. If he did, he would end up crawling back into his arms and then, one day Mark might not wake up from his slumber. The guilt, the love, something of both, prohibits him even this.</p><p> </p><p>The sky was empty. No clouds, rain, nothing to forebode what was to occur except emptiness. He brought nothing with him, simply jogged to the shoreline by following the sound of the waves. They beckoned him now, like some cruel hand of fate. It didn’t make him any less afraid. He arrived at the beach, panting. The toes of his trainers touched the edge of the waves; they surged to meet him but fell short. Donghyuck looked over the dark horizon. The tide was out, and the lights didn’t reach the water, nothing reflected on its surface, black and thick like oil. He swallowed a sob. <em> It should’ve been him </em>.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <em> Much like the skies of the surface, it was blank here too. All the paints were gone, no marigold, rose, nor sapphire; no shades of monochrome grey. It was blank. The Beach seemed still, very unlike his last visit. The sands were quiet, his mind was coherent, he could perceive the beach clearly. No prophetic quakes upon this plane. No Mark either. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Where his soul had danced on the waters before they were instead empty, placid, and almost… inviting. Donghyuck swallowed, it was dry and there was no moisture in his mouth. This was clearly a trap. The Beach felt like a beast in itself, sentient and omniscient, but malicious and unforgiving in its deity-like power. The way forward was in the waters, but getting there was not going to be an easy passage.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Donghyuck started walking, moreso trapesing, each footprint in the sands made purposefully and with caution. The silence rang loud. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Then, a hand around his ankle. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> His foot sank into the sand like it was liquid. Donghyuck could see the indent the fingers made on his joggers, vice grip squeezing his skin, but he could not see the hand itself. He flailed, using his other foot for purchase before two hands seized it and drew it into the consuming quicksand. Donghyuck kicked, grunts leaving his throat, gripped his right leg with his hands and tried to drag it out of the ghostly grasps pulling it downwards. The hands just multiplied each towing his body with more force. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Fuck,” the expletive came from between cleched teeth, strained, “think, Donghyuck, think!”  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Trying to recount advisory words from a book in an unfamiliar language was much harder when you were slowly sinking into God-knows-where. The words did not come and the sands were underneath his armpits now, his whole torso almost swallowed. Donghyuck took a guess, instead - he took a leap. He clamped his hands around his nose, mouth, and held his breath. </em>
</p><p> </p><p><em> The effect was immediate. The hands disappeared and the sand returned to its inert state. </em> Luck <em> . The Beach must be rejecting him, he’s too alive; this reassured him, maybe he would make it out the other end, if his body was still kicking. He removed his hands from his face but kept the air held in his lungs, not inhaling despite the ticking of a clock his brain supplied, and the way his chest was starting to burn. He pulled himself out of the sands as quickly as they would allow, crawling out pitifully. Getting up onto his feet Donghyuck took a moment. Took a deep, gasping breath in... then broke into a sprint. His feet pounded against the sand, kicking up damp clumps of it; the hands followed right on his heels. They slapped against the ground, tearing up their own chunks of earth, leaving handprints like scars. </em></p><p> </p><p>
  <em> The shoreline was mere feet away, Donghyuck dared not look back. They were right at his heels, tempting him back into life, taunting him with failure; he couldn’t fail, not with everything at stake. As his feet hit the water Donghyuck did not give into their temptations. He didn’t slow, charged against the obstruction of the waters. He did not slow as he dived into their depths.  </em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <em> The scene changed as he submerged. Where before, he was above the sands all around him was empty water. There was no beach behind him anymore, just feet of water. It descended a large distance below him, as it did so darkness enveloped it. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Donghyuck held his breath out of instinct but found he did not need to. This, at least, was similar to his dream. Having been supplied with forewarning Donghyuck gathered what would be waiting for him in the depths. He pressed on, swimming downwards into the black, the water he was surrounded with at odds with the fact he breathed it like oxygen. Maybe his body had drowned by now, maybe not. The coach came into view, it was exactly as he had seen it before, nose of the vehicle in process of being swallowed by the earth, moaning metal jutting from the sands. He approached the window. </em>
</p><p> </p><p><em> Looking through the shattered glass he almost recoiled. Mark was not there. Instead, chained to the seat was Donghyuck himself. A younger version of himself, the version that was on that bus, what seemed like years ago. The na</em><em>ï</em><em>ve version of him, unawares to the fate that would befell him and the boy that should have been in the seat beside. This Donghyuck had his eyes closed, unconscious of course, looking as though he was simply sleeping; blood swirled away from a gash on his scalp, forming abstract patterns in the waters, as though a painting of his own. The other Donghyuck, the much older, bleaker, and burdened self, gulped around nothing. Was he to save himself? The phrase repeated like a mantra in his head ‘ </em> it should have been me. <em> ’ Why would they ask this of him? </em></p><p> </p><p>
  <em> They did not give an answer. Donghyuck quickly became aware of the time he was wasting, hovering by the window, waiting for nothing. He swam through and faced himself. Many times Donghyuck had wished to return to this moment, submerged in the water, but he never imagined it would be like this. He unfastened his own seatbelt with ease and wrapped his arms around his younger self. Donghyuck then took them to the surface, wishing to cry. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Donghyuck can only guess as to why any of this occurred, but swimming upwards with his younger, innocent self, he thought he understood. Nothing can prepare you for loss, no matter how great. However, loss does not make your life any less valuable. It was never supposed to be him, for he did not deserve to die. Mark had decided to save him, drag his body to the surface, near to death himself. Mark had made that decision because Mark loved Donghyuck. He knew now, how selfish it was of him to blame himself, how selfish to try and take that choice away from him. He knew what was waiting for him. </em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <em> “Donghyuck, I love you .” Marigold, rose, and sapphire, a plane of still water, acrylic clouds, and Mark. No distance separated them anymore, he was before Donghyuck, full of color, and smiling. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “You idiot,” he said, “I love you too.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>IV: PROLOGUE</b>
</p><p> </p><p>Donghyuck put his lips to Mark’s neck and kissed his pulse tenderly. He followed it, down, down, to below his collarbone; he sunk his teeth into his skin gently and smiled at the gasp it elicited.</p><p> </p><p>“Cannibal.” Mark said, a betraying sigh leaving his lips.</p><p> </p><p>“Only ‘cus you taste so good.” His reply came muffled, in between kisses.</p><p> </p><p>They were on Donghyuck’s bed in the dorm, Mark on his back and Donghyuck on top. Their position was similar to that night, Donghyuck chased his pulse again, but not for the same reasons. Each time he found it, pressing closer to feel it thrum against his lips, Mark would let out a satisfied sigh and grip his back just a little tighter. Donghyuck wouldn’t admit it fueled his ego.</p><p> </p><p>“C’mere.” Donghyuck obeyed, bringing himself face-to-face with his lover. A self-satisfied smirk was barely concealed in his expression. “Are you done mauling me?”</p><p> </p><p>You younger gasped dramatically, a hand flying to his chest in mock offense.</p><p> </p><p>“How dare you refer to such an intimate act as ‘mauling’ Lee Mark. Shame on you.” Mark just laughed airily in reply, Donghyuck could feel his warm breath against his cheek. He followed Mark’s eyes with his own eagerly, the way they scrunched up, how fond they appeared, the deep brown that reminded him of bark, soil after rain, earthly in their heavenly grace.</p><p> </p><p>“Kiss me?” After all that time, Mark still asked.</p><p> </p><p>After all that time, he should have known Donghyuck would never say no.</p><p> </p><p>Their kiss breathed life, fire, between them. It was a letter to each other, pages that detailed all that words could convey of feeling. They kissed because they did not need to write that letter, it was all here. It was in the way Donghyuck pressed hard, chasing the warmth of his mouth because it reminded him he was alive. It was in the way Mark opened that very same mouth, let Donghyuck chase it, because he was so very weak to the other. It was in the way there was no ulterior motive, they did not kiss because it would lead to much more, it was all there was and all there needed to be. Donghyuck ran his palm across Mark’s cheek, Mark ran his own across the others back, on shoulder, through hair, nose, lips, teeth, tongue. It was a celebration of life, and the way life gave way to love. </p><p> </p><p>“Can’t wait to spend eternity with you.”</p><p> </p><p>After all this time, </p><p> </p><p>“Eternity doesn’t seem long enough.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>FIN.</b>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>im now off to write a long ass zombie apocalypse norenmin fic inspired by the release of 'the last of us 2' !!</p><p>follow me on <a href="https://twitter.com/JAEMlSM">twitter</a> to see me petition for jaemin to dye his hair black<br/>or drop a cc in my <a href="https://curiouscat.qa/blackhairedjaemin">curiouscat</a> for fics u want me to write</p><p>thank you for reading!</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>